Now a days
We come up in my mind a lot.
Maybe it's because of the time we spend together.
Maybe it's the fun we have.
Maybe it's the worry that I'll wake up and realize it's all a dream.

But this minute this moment is all I want.

It's a strange feeling realizing you were never in my life.
That once upon a time, I never fell asleep in your arms.
Never laughed at your jokes until I cried.
Never took care of you, running errands for you.
Never made you smile, or your eyes twinkle.

Sometimes it still feels unreal.

That I finally found you.
Even when our paths had crossed...
Me thinking you were loud and obnoxious.
You driving past my childhood home regularly.
Neither of us thinking about the other.

That we are this comfortable with one another.
Me feet away, reading
You finishing work you procrastinated earlier.
Not saying a word for hours.
There is no anxiety
No She's not talking, she doesn't love me anymore.
No He's not holding me, is it the way I look?

It all seems unreal until you hold me.
Until I see your gentle face
See your mouth move to speak
Hear your words.
Then all is grounded.
Then I know.
None of this is unreal. This is our life. Our reality.

People often think that love in a relationship is a selfish kind of love.
You want all of that person's attention.
All of the time.
You can't let anyone else talk to or touch or smell your partner.
You can't be cause they're yours.
You also may ask this person to give up all of their time, just to cater to you.
Why?
What does that do?
Tear them away from people they care about that's what.

I've never believed love to be selfish.
It's...
It's waiting up until 3 a.m. just to fall asleep together.
It's holding the door for each other.
Holding hands down the street.
It is work together to help your friends.
It's being a team.
It's laughing and crying, and sharing together.
It's making fun of each other.
It's knowing that you love each other.

Love is patient, love is kind.
Love isn't jealous.
It's doesn't sing it's own praises.
It isn't arrogant.
1 Corinthians 13:4

I'm not sure how to start this. So why not jump in head first.
You're sand paper. Abrasive, coarse, and unpleasant against skin.
I'm not stating that you have no use, or no one needs you.
Really, though who would run into arms that were tough and rough
And protective only of the things inside it's own body.
Protective of it's emotions, it's feelings, things that it can't let other people see.
Not allowing anyone to get too **** close.
Out of fear.
Who would want to live life like this?
Pretending that people need you for everything.
In truth, they don't need you.
How could they? You wouldn't let them get close enough to bond with you.
To be your hydrogen.
To give you life through fellowship.
How can you boast of everything you claim to be when no one else sees it.
I can't understand how you do anything, how you don't see it.
How you can't see what we see.

And then there's you. Not much different than the first.
Rather than sandpaper, you're opaque glass.
The kind they use in offices, to conceal.
You're door is made of oak, smooth and welcoming at first.
Then someone opens the door, to all your lies and false smiles
Dripping at the teeth with blood.
Your shield however is not one of everyone needing you,
It is not needing anyone.
Or as you say.
You depend on those that gave you life in all you do.
You don't work for anything you have, but have more than any of us.
You cry when you don't get exactly what you want.
Be happy that you breathe.
Be happy someone doesn't end that.
You give them great reason to.

Noises are amplified.
Blood runs cold.
Voice catches and hides away.
Heartbeats race.
I can't breathe. I can't let it take over. I'm not okay.

Can't be touched.
Don't let them see you cry.
No, I'm fine.
That's a lie. I'm not fine. It's taking control.
I give up. I give in.
I could swim in my tears.

What do I love? I have to remember.
I know I have a place to run.
I know I have arms to hold me.
I know I have people for me.
I know that I will be okay.
I am okay.

When you're hurting, I want to be your comfort.
To hold you and calm you, and tell you that you're beautiful.
I want you to run to me like you ran to the razor.
To the fire.
To the dark.
I want to be your home.
The place your heart longs for when you're miles away.
When you're yards away.
When you're in my arms.
I want to be yours.
Your home; your friend; your keeper; your everything.
I want for when you are in the deepest of places
And your mind refuses to see the love in all around you
And pulls you closer and closer to that blade
I want you run to me.
I want to be your knife.

You’re infuriating.
When you don’t pick a side.
When you disagree for no reason.
When you don't let me in.

You’re exhausting.
When you can’t sit still.
When you don’t take my advice.
When you don’t keep me in the loop.

You are maddening.
You are strenuous.
You are accepting.
Calming, irritating, caring,  
You are loving.

You are you alone.
And you are perfect.